


The Life in the Death

by speakingwosound (sev313)



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/speakingwosound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in prison, Booth promises himself that he won't hide from his sexuality anymore.  It's a hard promise to make good on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life in the Death

**Author's Note:**

> I was catching up on Season 10 this weekend, and was enthralled with Booth and Aubrey's relationship. As I couldn't find any slash for them, I decided to write my own.
> 
> There's some mention of episode cases in this, but I've changed things to fit my needs. In this universe, Booth and Bones had Christine and are co-raising her, but aren't together. Bones knows that Booth is closeted, and it was an amicable decision.

Prison changes a man.

Booth knows that, probably better than anyone. Has experience with it, both inside and out. As a cop, making a living against criminals, now trying to develop a life among them. And the only things keeping him going are a picture of Christine and a promise to stop hiding from himself, if he ever gets through this.

He gets one, and not the other.

He gets Christine, with her arms around him, her little body curled into his as she cries and shakes away her fear. They're on Bones' couch, under her watchful eye, and as he gets up to put Christine to bed, she stops him.

"Stay," she says, her voice soft and with a glass of whiskey held out for him.

She says it like she means it, but, if nothing else, he's learned not to take things for granted anymore. "Stay?"

She shrugs, sitting back in the armchair and taking a long sip of her wine. "It's only practical. Your house was destroyed, and Christine's missed you. Sweets-" Her voice chokes a little and Booth closes his eyes. She swallows and continues valiantly, like she always does. Strong and beautiful and everything he'd ever want, in another life. "Sweets would say that it'd be good for her to have you here, to remind herself that you're alive."

Booth hears _good for me and her_ in that and nods. "Okay."

"Good." She crosses her legs. "The guest room is made up. I put that blanket you like on the bed."

He laughs a little. "Confident, huh?"

"No." She frowns. "It's the only logical decision."

"Right." Booth laughs again, knowing that it isn't fair to flirt like this. It would be so easy to do it again, to bury loss and fear in her, to forget, for a night or a week or a year. He wants to, God he wants to, but easy isn't right. 

Besides, he promised himself.

Not that he'll have a chance to make good on that promise now.

He forces himself to look away, to hook his arms under Christine's knees and lift her to his chest. "I'm gonna put this monster to bed, then turn in myself."

Christine doesn't wake, but she does cling to his shirt when he tries to put her in bed. He does it slowly, lies with her until she's calm, and watches her for a few moments longer.

"Our daughter's not a monster," Bones says, when she meets him in the hallway and walks him to the guest room.

"Whatever you say, Bones." He stops, leaning back against the doorframe. "Thanks, for letting me stay."

She shrugs, then, with a flash of insight that leaves him trembling and confused, "I'm sorry about Sweets. I know what he meant to you."

Booth forces himself to shrug, too, casual, easy, like any partner or best friend would. "He meant a lot to you, too."

"It's not the same."

Booth's stomach drops. He's never wanted Bones to know and he never dreamed that she'd figure it out. Hodgins, maybe; Angela, certainly. But never Bones. "Nothing ever happened. I- I need you to know that."

"That's a shame." 

It hits him, again, how much he takes her for granted. "Bones-"

"I want you to be happy, Booth. That's all I ever wanted."

He pulls her into a hug, which she takes for a few seconds before she scrunches up her face and pulls away.

"It's late, and you have been through quite an ordeal. Good night."

She's gone before he can think of anything else to say. Which is probably for the best. He doesn't trust himself with her right now. 

The bed is soft and comfortable and covered in blankets and pillows. He lies awake for hours, missing his hard prison mattress. Missing Bones. Missing Sweets.

***

Aubrey isn't a bad guy. He's young, a little green, a little wounded in ways Booth doesn't understand yet and isn't sure he wants to.

Bones isn't wrong, though, when she corners him, sad and serious and breathing heavily through Sweets name. "Sweets would say that you have avoidance issues. You're still not trusting the people you work with. I'm concerned you're still not dealing with the trauma you suffered."

"You don't believe in psychology," he accuses.

"I believed in Sweets." Past tense.

Booth can argue with that. 

He also can't argue with the fact that Sweets practically handpicked Aubrey. Which seems- Fucked up, somehow. That Sweets unwittingly picked his successor, like he knew what was going to happen.

Sweets is still taking care of him, even from beyond the grave. Booth misses him like an ache in his chest.

So, in Sweets' honor, Booth tentatively agrees to trust Aubrey. Gingerly, slowly, temporarily.

Aubrey has other ideas. He worms his way into the passenger seat of Booth's SUV. He learns Bones' language until he speaks squint better than Booth ever will. He makes Christine giggle, with a complicated handshake that is only theirs and a love for candy that Booth nominally doesn't approve of. He calls Booth on his bullshit and keeps him honest.

He blows slow and temporary out of the water.

It's terrifying. And when Booth wakes up a few months later, covered in cold sweats and shaking from the nightmare of watching Sweets bleed out in his arms, he knows he's not ready to do this again. To need someone. To lose someone.

***

"I get that it's hard to trust someone new, but I thought we were making progress."

Booth looks away. Aubrey sighs, taking his beer and his wit and his eyes to the squints' table. Leaving Booth alone at the bar, to watch as Aubrey leans his shoulder against Cam's, to bite back a wave of jealousy. A wave of missing him, even though he's right there, almost close enough to touch, if Booth would just reach out.

He doesn't. He can't let himself.

Booth pulls away over the next few cases. He tries to do it subtlety, but he catches Aubrey watching him every time he thinks Booth isn't looking. Aubrey isn't good at hiding his emotions. He's too loud and he speaks with his whole body. Over the past few months, Booth's learned to read him, his hands and the curve of his mouth and the tilt of his swagger.

Aubrey's confused and hurting, and Booth can't bring himself to do anything about it.

Not even when they're assigned a hedge fund case that tosses them head-first down the rabbit hole of Aubrey's psyche. Aubrey spends the week looking struck, his mouth turned down in some approximation of hurt, curled under his skin the way anger should be. The way it would be, if Aubrey had come to terms with his father's abandonment; if he was even starting to.

Booth has to fight the push and pull of Aubrey's trauma, like a whirlpool threatening to sweep Booth into its wake, to leave them both broken and shattered and lost. It wouldn't do either of them any good. Booth's already lost enough for both of them.

So, Booth hugs Christine extra hard and makes Mickey Mouse pancakes and pretends that his heart isn't aching. Bones watches him, her eyes narrowing and her mouth flattening with each passing day. If anyone understands Aubrey now, it's her, and Booth pushes them together, hoping that they can work this out between them. Hoping they can work it out without him.

She comes back late, stumbling a bit out of the taxi, with beer on her breath. Booth meets her at the front door, but all she does is pat his chest, say, "Aubrey's a good man," like it's all that needs saying, like it's her blessing.

It puts Booth on edge. And, if Bones seems calmer, Aubrey is on edge, too, wound so tight that Booth isn't surprised when he snaps.

"You’re better off. Your husband stopped loving you a long time ago." He tells the victim's wife, vitriol spilling out of old wounds. Hurt and young and wildly inappropriate. "If he really loved you, he’d put your well-being ahead of his own no matter what, okay? But he chose to rip a family apart to get rich."

Words meant for his dad. Words meant for his mom. Words meant for _him_ , and Booth aches for the little boy who was left behind with no money, no father, and a mother too heartbroken to do much about it.

The widow is angry. Booth wishes Aubrey was angry, too.

Instead, he looks even more stricken as he apologizes. "I’m really sorry, Booth. I was out of line. Normally, I’m a good agent, but-"

"No, you are a good agent," Booth insists.

Aubrey purses his lips, like he’s holding back tears. 

He bows out of the case, insists on doing paperwork, while Booth takes Bones to the crime scene. He always loves working with her, but he can’t help thinking that Aubrey should be here. This is Aubrey’s case. This would go a long way in helping him heal.

When it's over, he finds Aubrey on Sweets' hill, looking out over the city with his hands in his pockets. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his tie discarded somewhere, and he barely glances over when Booth stops beside him.

"Your dad," Booth starts, because he needs Aubrey to get this. "The guy you remember, he's not the same guy who left you. Money changes people."

"My dad abandoned me, Booth. He left my mother and he left me, because he loved money more than he loved us. There's no other way to take that."

"There is," Booth insists, itching to wrap his hands around Aubrey's. "You do what you've been doing. You make yourself a better man. You do good. You find people to love and you love them, more than money or power."

Aubrey quirks an eyebrow, taking a step forward. "Someone to love?"

"A family." Booth swallows. His mouth is suddenly very dry. "The squints, the Bureau."

"You?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but-" He tries for light, but Aubrey's eyes are dark and intense and Booth unconsciously takes another step forward, drawn in by what Aubrey's asking him, needing from him. "Yeah, me, if you, ahh, if you'd like."

Aubrey leans forward. His lips are soft and gentle on Booth's. He keeps them closed, a question, a hope, and pulls back when Booth stills, unresponsive.

Aubrey bites at his lower lip. "I'm sorry. I read that wrong."

"Yeah, you sure did."

Booth's not so sure he did.

***

When Booth gets to the lab the next day, Aubrey's already there. He's in Angela's office, and Booth can't make out what they're saying through the glass, but he can read the body language. The defeated slump of Aubrey's shoulders and the thin line of Angela's lips.

Booth pushes everything away and knocks on the edge of the door. "I hear you have something for me."

Angela glares in his direction. "Aubrey can fill you in."

Aubrey flinches and when he finally meets Booth's eyes there's a pinch of fear that makes Booth's heart clench. 

"Hey." Booth drops his voice. "We're okay, right?"

Aubrey searches him for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah. Let's, ahh, focus on the case."

"Right. What did Angela find?" 

He ignores Angela's eyes on him as Aubrey falls into step with him.

He should have known it wasn't anything but a reprieve, though. And he has no right to be surprised when, after the case is over, she calls him on it.

"Booth." Angela stops him from leaving the Jeffersonian, her hands loose on the tablet she's holding, like she wants to reach out for him but is stopping herself. "Don't you think you've mourned enough?"

Booth bristles. "There isn't an end to atonement. There can never be 'enough.'"

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to atone for. Sweets' death wasn't your fault."

"If he wasn't my partner-"

She does reach out now, her hand small and warm on his forearm. "He was an FBI agent, Booth. He knew what he was getting into every time he went into the field."

"He wouldn't have been in the field, if I hadn't introduced him to it."

She shakes her head with a small, wry smile. "And he wouldn't have been happy. He loved the field. He loved being your partner. He loved you."

He isn't even surprised, watching this secret he's kept for thirty years unraveling over the course of a few short months and the death of a man he'll never get to love. "He didn't know. I never told him."

"He knew." She squeezes his arm, her smile brighter. "He knew."

Booth sighs, even as his heart feels lighter than it has in the nearly-a-year since he was arrested. "We wasted so much time."

Angela's face falls a little, her lips red and tight and serious. "Then don't waste any more time. Tell him. Don't let another one get away."

Booth doesn't ask who she means. 

***

"Hey." Aubrey's holding a bottle of wine tightly in his arms, rocking uncomfortably on his heels as he waits on Bones' doorstep. He's still wearing his suit from the day. "Thanks for having me over."

"Yeah." Booth holds out his hand for the bottle. It's expensive, more than Aubrey can afford on his salary, and Booth can barely hear anything past the beating of his heart. "Thanks. Come in."

Booth leads the way into the kitchen, slipping behind the counter and picking up the knife to finish the salad. Aubrey stands in the middle of the kitchen, still rocking on his heels. "Nice place."

"It's Bones'." Booth catches Aubrey's flinch out of the corner of his eye. "Relax, take a seat."

"Oh." Aubrey doesn't move. "I was kinda hoping, when you asked me, that this was a date?"

Booth wipes his hands on a towel, taking the time to open the bottle and pour two glasses of wine. He comes around the counter, handing Aubrey his glass. "I want it to be. If you-"

"Yes," Aubrey says, too quickly, and flushes. He takes a large, nervous sip before he says, forcefully slower, "yes, I want."

"Good." Booth leans forward, kissing the wine out of Aubrey's mouth slow and gentle and with only a little tongue. Aubrey's even more flushed when Booth pulls away, his lips swollen and red as he bites at them. Booth grins, leading the way back to the counter. "Can you relax now?"

Aubrey follows him, but is still a little ginger as he takes the seat across from Booth's cooking station. "Isn't it strange for you? Being here, with me?"

"Bones knows." 

Aubrey looks both terrified and relieved at that news. Booth chuckles.

"My place was destroyed, before my arrest. I'm just staying in the guest room until I find a new apartment. And," Booth drops his voice, leaning across the counter to flirt with him, "she'll be out late. Very late."

Aubrey swallows. 

Booth kisses him again. He can't seem to stop, now that he's opened the door. This is what he's always been afraid of.

"Still." Aubrey licks his lips, his eyes a little glassy. "Maybe we can do this at my place next time?"

"Sounds great. You can cook."

"Or we can do take out." Aubrey takes a sip of his wine. "It smells amazing. I hope you've made enough. I'm starving."

"I made enough for four," Booth promises. Aubrey looks pleased, leaning back in his chair and loosening his tie, already looking comfortable here. Like he belongs in Booth's life, like he fits perfectly alongside Bones and Christine and Parker and Sweets' memory. "I'm glad you're here."

Aubrey softens, leaning forward to catch Booth's hand. "No place I'd rather be."

Booth turns his hand over to catch Aubrey's. This isn't what he expected when he made that promise to himself in his darkest prison nights, but he couldn't ask for anything else. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment here or find me on [tumblr](http://stainyourhands.tumblr.com)!


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